You & I
by murdur
Summary: Collection of Loki/Sif drabbles and oneshots from tumblr prompts
1. Stressed

_******I've done some short drabbles and taken prompts over on my tumblr, psychoticgirl. I plan on posting a few of them over here and possibly updating in the future if more writing happens :)**_

**Prompts - stressed, afraid**

* * *

He is sitting hunched over his open book when she slips into the darkness of his room, his candles burned down to withering glows.

He did not accompany the welcoming party to the edges of the city, heralding her and her warriors return from battle, instead electing to lock himself away with his barely masked fears alone in his room, staring at the same page for hours.

She does not begrudge his choice. She knows that it is not lack of caring that keeps him here, but an abundance of it. Knows that if she was injured, or worse, he would not be able to stop himself from revealing their secret in front of all of Asgard. Knows that she would hardly be able to contain it herself.

The dark is safer.

His back stiffens at the touch of her hand to the base of his neck, shoulders dropping as a sigh of relief is breathed harsh through his nostrils. Sliding her hands across his shoulders, up the long column of his neck to rub circles in dark hair, pushing the tension and worry from his body. Her calloused hands travel downwards, sliding against the leather draping his chest to rest her head against his.

"I'm here," she whispers against his temple. "I'm alright."

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair to the ground in his movement, to take her in. Green orbs move quickly across her form, confirming with his own eyes the words her lips have spoken. She holds still under his needy gaze until he rushes forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her hard.

"I'm here," she whispers again, against his lips.

And again when he strips the metal and leather from her body, his lips and tongue seeking out every bruise and scrape.

Again as he pushes her back onto the bed, his face tucked to her neck.

Again as he moves within her, hands digging possessively, desperately into flesh.

Once more as he wraps around her, his breath slowing soft and steady against the back of her neck, safe in the dark.


	2. Delirious

**Prompt - Delirious**

* * *

He can't focus on anything for long. He faintly recalls being struck in the head with the handle of her sword, all her glorious fury behind it. He definitely recalls her hands on him, long fingers in his hair, probing at the lump on his skull. Her voice calling out his name and her concerned face lingering over his own, mercifully blocking out the too bright sun from his stinging eyes and it looks like there is a fire behind her, as if she herself is aflame. She is a vision.

"You're really beautiful, you know?" He can feel his words slurring but Sif's face looks slightly more relieved nonetheless.

"Shut up. And don't move. I clobbered you pretty solidly."

He grunts in agreement. He wouldn't be able to disobey her command if he wanted, for at the moment the training ring seems to be spinning at a nauseating pace. He has to close his eyes against it.

"I have a few healing stones on hand. I'm not sure they'll do much, but maybe it'll be enough to get you back on your feet to walk to the healing rooms." He is aware of her fingers in his hair again, rubbing the powder of the crushed stone into his tender skin. He's sure of her voice continuing but his brain can't quite sort out what she's said. His own words seem jumbled in his mind.

"Being around you is like this most of the time," he gripes while his head lolls in the dirt for a moment.

"Don't be so dramatic. I only land blows this hard on occasion. You're much too elusive to be permanently concussed at my hand."

"No," he argues, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. "The part of love where you feel out of your mind, out of control. It's not so different than this."

There is an awkward silence for a moment and he feels panic swell inside of him. Was that a stupid thing to say? Stupid. He rushes for something clever to say but only manages a pathetic "uhhhhh" in his disorientation. Then she laughs, long and hard.

"Poor Loki. Beaten senseless with the force of my affection and the bewilderment of his own emotions." She laughs again, sliding her arms under his arms and behind his knees, lifting his limp form easily from the ground. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, letting his still spinning head slump against her chest.

"You are a brute, truly."


	3. Allergies

**Prompt - Allergies**

* * *

Alfheim was beautiful this time of year, and it hadn't taken much persuading to convince the prince to take her on a short holiday to the realm. No duties were looming over them and they would not be missed for a day or two spent in an isolated mountain cabin.

Loki asked the innkeeper to prepare them a basket to take along on their stroll that afternoon, allowing them to now picnic in a field of wildflowers. Loki is stretched out on his back, one arm pillowed behind his head while his other hand is draped across Sif's ankle, rubbing soft circles against her skin with his eyes closed to the drowsy warmth of the afternoon.

Sif has her face turned up towards the sun, deeply breathing in the smell of the colorful blooms and munching on the Elvish delicacies when the itch starts in the back of her throat. She tries to clear it a few times, exhaling in short harsh bursts but it only seems to irritate her airway further and the soreness increases.

"Loki," she starts hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he drowses, not opening his eyes.

"_Loki_," her voice is sharp, trying to keep the panic at bay despite the hives that are now blooming across her chest. Her lips feel swollen and strange, and her tingling mouth makes speech awkward. "I can't breathe."

He rolls his head to look at her fully then and sits up suddenly, his eyes wide.

"Oh."

Dread sinks in her stomach, her Silvertongue stunned to near silence. This is not a good sign. Her breath rasps when she inhales next, sending Loki up to his kneels to face her.

"Alright, just stay calm. You're having some sort of allergic reaction." Brilliant, really. Her love is a real genius. He turns on his knees, digging through the picnic basket and speaking quickly in near-alarm. "What could it have been? Something in that salad? Or maybe it's the pollen of one of these flowers."

"Does it matter?" she wheezes, trying not to feel irritated. "Just help me."

"Right! Of course," he whirls back towards her, his hands flailing unhelpfully near her neck for a moment before resting on her shoulders. "Your neck is swollen and your lips too. Just, calm down, Sif. Take a deep breath."

It feels like her throat is slowly closing and she tenses against it, her entire body feeling rigid with only shallow pants making it to her lungs.

"Deep breaths, Sif!" His voice is rising in pitch and volume, his eyes roaming her face and neck in a frenzy. "Take a nice deep breath and try to clear your mind, it might help your body work better at fighting off the reaction!"

She can't get enough air to do more than wheeze roughly at him.

"If I knew what was causing it, I could flush it out. But I don't even know what we ate." His words run in to each other as he shakes her shoulder. "Oh, you look horrendous, your throat is enormous, Sif. Just. Relax!"

She is being suffocated by her own body and all he can do is babble unhelpful drivel at her and flutter his hands like a worried old woman.

"Sif, just stay calm!" He is shouting now, hysterical. "In through your no-"

Before she's even aware of it, her arm has pulled back and snaps forward, connecting solidly with Loki's nose. He crumples to the blanket with a shouted "whaaa—?" in his bewilderment.

Sif wheezes a laugh at the shocked look on Loki's pale face, contrasted with the blood now pouring down his chin, livid red.

He scoffs, affronted, but appears to have sobered up. Or at least his eyes seem less crazed. One hand probes his nose tenderly. "Ow."

Sif laughs harder. The violent action of her punch and the ripples of her laughter seep some of the tension away from her neck.

"You are utterly perverse, my lady." He pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking away the tears smarting his eyes. "Genuinely unhinged. What a way to accept aid."

She cannot control her laughter now, relaxing her body in her twisted merriment, opening her airway and flushing some of the panic from her mind.

"Thank you," she gasps, "for your invaluable assistance."

"My pleasure," he grumbles. Perhaps he won't admit it, but he seems genuinely relieved to have helped in some way.

"Now," she rasps as she stands shakily, pulling him to his feet as well. "_Magic_ us home, you moron."

"Of course, _now_ you're full of great ideas." She punches him again, on the arm this time. "Ow! Lady, please! Keep your head!"


End file.
